


Gimme Some Sugar

by nonsensedarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bad Puns, Baker Harry, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Insecurity, M/M, Manager Louis, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Pastries as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensedarling/pseuds/nonsensedarling
Summary: Louis is scheduled to work an overnight shift with Harry, the hot new pastry chef, to complete a special order. Into the late hours of the night, they bond over music and the ability to make each other laugh like no one else... which makes it harder and harder for Louis to hide his crush. Maybe it won't be so bad if he can't.*Or an AU inspired entirely by a manip of Harry with highlights.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 97
Kudos: 510





	Gimme Some Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the best beta in the world, Jo ([dearlou](https://dearlou.tumblr.com/)) for beta-ing this for me back in May before I decided I was going to put it to the side for a bit.  
> Another shout out to Bridget ([onlyforthebabes](https://onlyforthebabes.tumblr.com/)) for making sure I didn't make an absolute mess out of my bakery descriptions!  
> All mistakes left in the fic are my own (especially because I keep editing and rewriting up literally up until I post)!
> 
> General notes for this fic:  
> \- The pronunciation of kouign amann is like "queen ah-mon" (Thank you to [this article](https://villagebakingco.com/2018/09/how-do-you-say-kouign-amann/#:~:text=A%20Little%20History%20Behind%20the,the%20appearance%20of%20our%20bakes.) for helping me put that into letters.) (Also I can't recommend this pastry enough. It's not easy to make but it is absolutely delicious.)  
> \- I've never worked in a bakery, but there was a time that I did a lot of stress-baking so I'm hoping my timing was generally on-track.  
> \- These two gorgeous idiots were really fun to write, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

“You’re staring,” Zayn says. 

Louis whips around to glare at the side of his friend’s face. Bastard’s not even looking, just wiping down the flavored syrup bottles behind the counter across from him. 

“No I’m not.”

Zayn does look at him then, and it’s a million times worse. The _smugness._ The _condescension._ The _yeah okay say that if you’d like but we both know you’re lying_ look _._

From where Louis’ standing, at the very end of the barista counter, he can see into the kitchen. Not all of it, but two out of three workbenches and the first line of refrigerators. A lot of the staff that work in the kitchen like to use the third workbench, the one that’s out of sight from the front. Not everyone, though. 

“Just go ask him,” Zayn says.

“Ask him what?”

“Hm,” Zayn hums. Even the slight buzz of it sounds smug. “I don’t know, Lou. Maybe _‘are you able to switch your schedule next weekend?’,_ seeing as you are his boss and that’s something you need to know.” Louis huffs. It’s not like Zayn’s wrong, but he doesn’t like his tone, thanks very much, so he’s not going to make this conversation easy. “Or maybe,” Zayn continues, “you could say, _‘I’d really like to know what your cock tastes like. You free later?’”_

Louis gives up on trying to pretend he doesn’t know what Zayn’s talking about and just gawks at him. He’s prepared to say that it’s blatantly untrue, that Zayn is out of his mind, that he’s never wanted to know what _anyone’s_ cock has tasted like. Who even thinks something like that?

What comes out instead is, “I’m not his boss.”

Zayn shrugs and runs a hand over his perfectly quaffed hair. “You make the schedules, same difference.”

Louis is about to give a biting retort when they’re interrupted. 

“Hiya,” a deep voice says. And Louis melts a little, but only on the inside, since he can’t bear to let Zayn know he was right. 

And Harry. He can’t let Harry know either.

The man himself is standing in front of Louis now, just to the left of him, behind the barista counter. He removes his white apron which is smeared with dark chocolate streaks, most likely from making the pain au chocolat earlier. He’s smiling, dimples out and all. Louis laments the fact (again) that he’s so attractive. It’s simply not fair. 

Harry shakes out his shoulder-length hair from the hairnet, and the sun shining through the bakery windows catches on his honey highlights. It makes the specks of gold in his green eyes pop, as well. Louis imagines it's the same awe-inspiring effect of sunlight shining through stained-glass. 

It’s immensely, excruciatingly unfair. 

“Hi Harry,” Zayn says, smirking at Louis. “You done for the day?”

Harry turns to look at Zayn and nods. “Yeah, just going to go home for a nap before I go out with some friends. How about you?”

“I’ve got another hour,” Zayn says, and then nods at Louis. “Lou and I also might go out tonight. Maybe we’ll run into you.”

Harry beams at him. Louis can’t decide if he’s more upset about how beautiful he looks or that Zayn is the one getting all his attention when he looks this beautiful. “That’d be sick, mate, where’re yous headed?”

“Not sure yet, it’s our mate Liam’s turn to pick the club.”

“Ah,” Harry says, mouth quirking to the side in an apologetic smile. “Niall’s picking today, and he always picks a pub.”

“Pubs over clubs,” Louis says without thinking. 

Harry turns to him and honks out a laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth. Louis’ insides feel hot, like they’re suddenly made of lava. When Harry pulls his hand away, he’s still laughing a bit. Louis wants to die. He looks determinedly away, trying to hide the sudden blush on his cheeks.

“Right,” Zayn says, since Louis is currently too busy staring hard at the espresso machine and trying not to implode. “Well feel free to text where you end up, we’ll swing by if we can.”

“Will do. See you later.” And then Harry turns and starts walking out of the bakery. 

“Lou,” Zayn says.

The door chimes and closes in the next couple of seconds.

“Hm?”

“Are you gonna go ask him?”

“Ask what?”

“Louis, look at me.”

He does, begrudgingly, peel his eyes away from the spot he’s been staring at on the espresso machine to look at him. He feels a bit unwell, and even more so when he sees Zayn’s pointed look and crossed arms. 

“Harry’s the only one with a flexible enough schedule to work the overnight shift next week, and seeing as schedules are meant to go out tomorrow, you need to ask him. Today. That way, if he says no, you can tell Georgiana and she’ll come in and do it.”

“Um.”

_“Lou.”_

“I know, I know, fuck.” Louis takes a deep breath and then groans as he makes his way out the door, turning right out of the shop and jogging until he can see Harry again.

Once he’s only half a block away, Louis calls out, “Harry! Um… Harry!”

Harry looks around a little and then over his shoulder. He slows when he sees it’s Louis and steps to the side so he’s not standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He smiles a little at him, but on the whole looks confused. “Did I forget to punch out again?” he says when Louis’ in earshot. “Could've sworn…”

“No, no,” Louis says, breathing a little harder than he’d like. “Or, well, maybe. I didn’t look. I just, um, I forgot to ask you something.”

Harry nods and looks at him expectantly, tucking a strand of soft honey-colored hair behind his ear. God fucking damnit, who allowed him to get highlights; Louis needs to know where to send the outraged thank you card. 

Harry’s eyebrows pull together, looking even more confused, and Louis realizes he’s just been staring at him out here on the sidewalk like a lunatic. 

“Sorry, I’d, uh, lost my train of thought for a moment. You know, that happens sometimes, where you don’t drink enough water or eat enough. I probably just need to have a snack. Maybe some bread. You made those croissants this morning, right? They looked great. But, um, no of course so did the baguettes Sandra made. Maybe one of those.”

Harry’s nodding, like Louis isn’t being a total idiot, and he smiles at him. “Sandra’s the best at the crusty bread, I’ve been trying to bribe her to teach me, but she just said it’s all the love she puts into it.”

“Not got enough love in you, then?” Louis says. 

And what the fuck. Immediately he feels his cheeks go so warm.

Harry just laughs a little. “Guess not.” 

Louis clears his throat and shakes his head. “Anyway, sorry, I just needed to ask you… so we’ve got this big order to do next week —next Saturday— and it’s a load of pastries and breads for this company across town who want to do a sampling of baked goods with their new line of jams and sauces and things for a Saturday breakfast employee appreciation or something before they go on a retreat. And they’re planning on doing it first thing in the morning, and normally we’d ask them to do it late morning, but weekends are already busy and they’re paying a good chunk of money, so Georgiana —the owner… no sorry, you know— she asked if there was someone who could do it and I thought maybe you could. If you wanted.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, furrowing his brows. “You need me next Saturday?”

_Need you now. Need you always, probably._

Louis scrunches his eyes closed and then opens them quickly. He can’t just stop being a person because Harry’s in front of him looking gorgeous. Always so fucking gorgeous. He needs to pull himself together. 

“Yes. Sorry. Would you mind switching your schedule from 4am-12pm to 8pm-4am next Friday into Saturday. You’d get a bonus of £100 on your next paycheck for making the switch. And I can give you Sunday and Monday off to recover.”

Harry nods in understanding. “Anyone else scheduled?”

Louis nods. “Zayn’s going to be there just at the start because he’ll be closing, but that’s just for an hour.” Harry seems to perk up at that. Louis bites his lip and tries not to let the pang in his heart hurt too bad. “I, uh, I can send you the full list of items and quantities of each. And I’m not a baker but I could, like, mix something if you needed it, I suppose.”

“Oh, you’ll be working too?”

Louis cringes at the surprise in his voice. “Yeah, is that… a problem?”

“No!” Harry says on a laugh. “No, ‘course not. That’s great actually.” Louis sucks in a breath too fast and nearly chokes on it before Harry continues, “Might’ve been a bit creepy being there all on my own all night.”

Louis forces out a laugh with all the air stuck in his lungs. “Haha, yeah, totally.”

“So, yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll switch my schedule on Saturday.”

“Oh! Great. Fantastic mate, cheers. I appreciate it.”

Harry shrugs and runs a hand through his soft curls, showing off his well-defined bicep. “I appreciate the extra hundred quid and almost a full weekend off.”

Louis nods too aggressively and nearly makes himself lightheaded with the motion. “Sick, mate, thanks. Um, I’ll let you… get to it.”

“Sounds good, maybe I’ll see you later then.”

“Ugh, yeah, maybe. Maybe,” Louis says, and throws a hand up in a wave before turning around and starting to jog back. It’s not like he’s got to be back in any sort of hurry, they’re in their slow time of day, but Louis desperately wants to get as far away from his idiotic, rambling interaction as he can. 

When he makes it back to the bakery, Zayn greets him with raised eyebrows. “And?” he asks. 

Louis clears his throat to get rid of the crack he’s sure is there. “Harry’s going to work next Friday.”

“He said yes?” Zayn asks with a smirk. 

“Oh, don’t be a dick.”

And then without warning, Zayn leans sideways across the counter and clicks a button on the bakery sound system. A song cracks through the speakers. 

‘ _I've been really tryin', baby,’_ croons out all around them. The three patrons in the shop look up, a little startled, and then they smirk. One of them even starts laughing. 

“Don’t,” Louis says. 

_‘Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long’_ Marvin sings out through the room. 

Zayn closes his eyes and sways exaggeratedly to the music. 

_‘And if you feel like I feel, baby.’_

“You’re an asshole,” Louis says. 

_‘Then, c'mon, oh, c'mon.’_

_“Let's get it on,”_ Zayn sings along, thrusting softly and sensually behind the counter. _“Ah, baby, let's get it on.”_

Louis lunges forward and races around the counter just as Zayn tries to run away, still singing out in his perfect pitch. It turns into a squeal when Louis tackles him and pins his wrists by his head underneath the espresso machine. 

_“We're all sensitive people,”_ Zayn sings to him soulfully, legs kicking out from where they’re under Louis’ bum. _“With so much to give!”_

“It’s an utter disgrace that you’re using Marvin Gaye against me in this setting. Just unfathomably rude.”

Louis lets go of his wrists in favor of tickling him. _“Let's live,”_ Zayn laugh-sings. _“I love youuuuuuuuuuuu.”_

Someone makes a gargled choked-off noise and Louis nearly gives himself whiplash turning to look. And he flushes from the tips of his ears to his toes when he sees who it is. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry jumps to turn around, and puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. “Sorry, I just realized I forgot my phone. Have… either of you seen it?”

Louis is too flushed to respond, so Zayn —still a little too giggly— says, “Haven’t mate, sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’ll go look in the kitchen. Sorry.” And then he’s gone and Louis rolls off of Zayn, mortified. 

He groans and Zayn laughs. 

“Well, well, well, looks like Harry’s not as chill as we thought.”

Louis stares up at the ceiling. “He’s probably upset it wasn’t him on top of you.” 

“What?” Zayn says on a chuckle, a little incredulous sounding. 

Louis lets out a long sigh and throws an arm over his face. “He was really pleased when he found out your shifts were going to overlap for a bit for the overnight.”

There’s some shuffling, but otherwise Zayn is quiet, so Louis peeks over his arm to look at him. Zayn’s leaning up on one elbow with an eyebrow raised and a dopey grin on his face.

“What?” Louis asks. Zayn just starts shaking his head and lays back down. After a moment Zayn lets out another little giggle. _“What?”_

“You’re an idiot.”

 _“I’m_ an—”

“Found it,” Harry’s voice calls out from the kitchen. Louis shuts up immediately. After another five seconds, Harry slowly walks out to the front and then takes another few moments to turn to his left and look down at the pair of them, still on the floor. Louis pulls both arms over his eyes as soon as he does so he doesn’t have to look at him. “I’ll, uh, see you later, maybe.”

Zayn just laughs. “See ya, Harry.”

Louis wants to die. 

The door chimes and closes again, and with it the last of Louis’ dignity.

Immediately after, there’s a vibration on the shelf by his head beneath the counter. He reaches for his phone where he left it charging, only to see about a dozen text messages in the group chat he has with Zayn and Liam.

_Louis (11:57am): it’s official - not gonna be able to do the gig next friday, gotta work_

Liam (12:28pm): No problem - Michelle and Sarah invited us to that new club on 3rd street tonight, so I’ll just ask if they can swap with us for the following weekend. 

Liam (12:29pm): Who’s working then?

Zayn (12:31pm): **😉**

Liam (12:32pm): !

Liam (12:32pm): 🥐 **😘** 🍆

Zayn (12:34pm): More like 😰 **😳😮😃😘** 🍆💦💦💦😏

Liam (12:35pm): 🍆🌊🍆🌊

Zayn (12:36pm): that’s gross

Zayn (12:36pm): i love it

Zayn (12:37pm): look lou - a visual of next friday night

Zayn (12:38pm): 🍆🍆🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊 … 🧁🧁🧁

Liam (12:50pm): No, more like 🧁🥐🥧...🍆🍆🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Liam (12:50pm): You can be a slag, Lou, but get the work done first **😉**

Louis (12:52pm): fuck you both

Mercifully, Zayn doesn’t mention anything to Liam about switching to a pub. He’s a right twat sometimes, but Louis’ grateful he’s not a pushy twat. He’s already had enough embarrassment for one day, he’s not sure what he’d do if he had to see Harry again tonight.

Louis sighs, and mourns the mental image of Harry leaning against a bar while ordering a pint with his cute little bum out, and then another of him all sweaty and dancing at a club. Neither of which he’ll probably ever get to see. A travesty, honestly.

***

He leaves for the bakery much too early on Friday night. He had too much nervous energy coursing through him and couldn’t bear to stay in his apartment any longer. Unfortunately, that meant he either had to show up at the bakery much too early and try to ignore Zayn as he looked at him with that motherfucking smugness or try to walk it off. 

So here he is walking around the park three blocks from the bakery, trying to tell himself that this is basically just any other shift. 

It doesn’t feel like just any other shift. 

Just the thought of being alone with Harry for seven hours is enough to make his skin prickle, he doesn’t know how he’s actually going to get through this. 

He spends so long walking and working himself up, and then trying to talk himself down, that suddenly he’s only got just enough time to make it to the bakery for the start of his shift. He speed walks there and arrives just in time to see Zayn pulling on his leather jacket. 

Louis uses his keys to open the door and Zayn looks up just in time for Louis to look at him pointedly and flip over the sign on the door to “Closed.” 

“Mate, you gotta remember to switch the sign.”

“Mate, you’ve gotta chill.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Everything go okay today?”

Zayn shrugs. “Was kind of slow. There was only one bloke in here with me for the last hour before Harry showed up.”

Louis tries not to physically react to hearing Harry’s name, but by the cocky grin on Zayn’s face, it’s clear he failed. 

“That’s nice. Did you have a nice chat? Get things sorted?”

“Oh, we got something sorted, that’s for sure.”

Louis looks at Zayn hard. “What does that mean?”

He just laughs in response. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you for a late brunch tomorrow, yeah? I’d reckon you’ll need those unlimited mimosas after your nap. Part of the recovery process.”

“Yeah, alright, sounds good.”

Zayn’s headed out the door, with Louis right behind him to lock up, when he turns around and winks. “Have fun,” he sing-songs, before leaving the bakery and leaving Louis a little bewildered in his wake. What the fuck. 

When he can’t see Zayn anymore, Louis shakes his head, closes and locks the door, and then just stares at it’s handle for a full minute. It feels more real, all of a sudden, that Louis’ in the shop all alone with the man he’s had a crush on since the very first day he started more than a month ago.

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

He can’t really avoid it any longer. He has to go and check on Harry, make sure he’s okay and see what he can help with before he starts to assemble the boxes and get the packages ready. He’s planning on spending the first bit on prep for that and then going to see what Harry needs help with, but he needs to at least let Harry know that he’s here first. 

Feeling defeated, Louis carefully walks through the bakery, back behind the counter and into the kitchen where he finds Harry at the furthest workbench. Louis has to put all his energy into cutting off his own garbled noise of surprise when he sees him. 

Harry’s got the top half of his hair tied up in a little bun, small wisps of it falling in front of his face as he leans over a large metal bowl. He really should be wearing a hairnet but Louis barely has the wherewithal to acknowledge that as he looks at him. 

Harry’s kneading, it looks like, muscles in his arms flexing as he works the dough. He bites his lip in concentration, and it looks like he’s counting. 

He’s wearing a white t-shirt, sleeves cuffed so they frame his biceps beautifully. Grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks exactly like he stepped out of one of Louis’ late night fantasies. Ones where Harry pulls off his top teasingly slow and Louis runs his hands up and over his abs as he does so, ones where Louis takes a full minute to appreciate the ‘v’ lines leading to his groin, ones where Harry isn’t afraid to manhandle Louis into exactly the position he wants him in. 

This is a nightmare. 

How the fuck is he supposed to keep his wits about him when Harry is here, looking like _that?_

Suddenly, Harry lets out a big breath and shakes out his arms. He looks up and sees Louis and smiles really wide as he brings a wrist up to push some wisps of hair out of his eyes, which then leaves a flour smudge along his brow bone. 

Louis is so fucked. 

“Hiya,” Harry says to him. Then he rubs his hands together to get rid of some of the excess flour before grabbing some cling film to put over the bowl. “Just getting some of the bread done so it can proof. Is there anything you think I should get started on right away?”

Louis swallows. “Um. Maybe, eh, maybe cupcakes. If there’s… I mean if you make the frosting and the cupcakes cool I can decorate them. It’s the one thing I’m not bad at.”

“Great!” Harry says. He grabs the bowl and comes out from around the workbench. And that’s when Louis sees it. 

Crocs. Ghastly neon-orange crocs. 

“Oh no,” Louis says.

Harry bends over to put the bowl in the proofing drawer and Louis almost doesn’t stop to appreciate how amazing his bum looks in those joggers. (Almost. He still has _eyes.)_

Harry straightens and runs a hand through his hair as he does so, coating some of his gorgeous highlights white with more flour. “What?”

“Are you wearing _Crocs_?”

He looks down at his own feet and then back up at Louis, smiling again. “Yeah, why?”

“Mate, those are the ugliest shoes on the planet.”

Harry laughs. “They are. But they’re also the only shoes I know I can stand in for eight hours without wrecking my back.” 

“Alright,” Louis says, pulling his hands up in a surrendering motion. “But if the paparazzi catch a photo of you in those and you’re dragged through the mud for it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Harry honks out a laugh and it takes a full ten seconds for it to die down into soft chuckles as he walks back around and towards the sink. “If the paparazzi take a photo of me at all, you’ll have to tell me what I did to get that attention.”

_Being an adonis, obviously._

“This is a very famous bakery, I’ll have you know,” Louis says, instead, “they could want the hot gossip on the hot young pastry chef creating all the delicacies.” 

Ah fuck. He’s just admitted he thinks Harry’s hot. Motherfu—

“I’d have to point them Sandra’s way, then.”

Louis stops the beginning of his internal spiral and just stares at him. “You’d sent them to Sandra, who has three grandkids over the age of ten, as the hot young pastry chef?”

Harry shrugs as he washes his hands. “Hot and young are subjective terms.”

Louis can’t help but laugh at that. It turns a little bitter at the end, as he wonders what he’d have to do to get Harry to associate him with those words. “I suppose they are.” 

“Anyway,” Louis continues. “I’ll let you get back to it. I’ve got to build the boxes and put in the company samples with each.”

Harry nods and heads back over to his workbench. “I’ll get started on those cupcakes.”

“Cheers.”

Louis watches Harry for another few moments as he goes to the refrigerator to grab eggs, butter and milk, before tearing himself away and going to the office to grab the materials he needs. 

An hour and a half later, Louis has thirty boxes built and thirty ribbons cut - one for each. Each of the packages has the company’s three new products in them, with three extra leftover. They must be some sort of thank you or gift to the bakery for doing this, which is a nice thought. 

Once they’re filled, he’ll need to stick each box with the bakery logo and tie a bow when they’re ready to go, and he still needs to create labels for each of them so they know what’s inside without having to open each box, but Louis’ starting to get a crick in his neck, so he decides to take a break and go check on Harry. 

As he gets closer, he can hear a rock hits station playing softly from Harry’s phone, which is plugged into the little speakers by the walk-in freezer. 

Just as Louis comes in, he sees Harry rolling out some dough on the second workbench, closer to the door. He notices Louis quicker this time. 

“Hey, Lou. Everything going okay?”

Louis nods and steps further into the room, looking over Harry’s shoulder to see a couple of rows of baguettes all lined up on baking trays and ready to go in the oven. 

“You’ve made loads of progress.”

Harry chuckles a little. “I actually think I’m ahead of schedule, which is nice. Maybe I can get us out of here a little earlier.” He looks up from his work, eyes twinkling. 

“Get yourself out of here as soon as you can,” Louis agrees. “I’m the delivery boy on these, so I’ll be in the van at half four regardless.”

“Oh,” Harry says, pausing slightly in his rolling. 

“I’ll clock you out so you get paid for your whole shift,” Louis says, trying to sooth Harry’s concern. 

“Hm?” Harry says. “Oh, yeah, I’m not worried about it. And I might not be all that ahead, anyway.” He nods down to the dough in front of him. “Puff pastry can be tricky. Need to give myself extra time in case I need to do anything over again, as well.”

“What’re you making now?” Louis asks, walking further into the room, trying not to get distracted by the perfect honey-colored ringlet tucked behind Harry’s ear. 

“Kouign amann. I’m surprised these were on the list, actually, since we don’t sell them normally.”

Louis blushes a little at that. “Ah, sorry, that’s my fault. I suggested it when they called, when they asked for something buttery and sweet. They’re my favorite pastry. Truth be told, I mostly did it in hopes that I could sneak an extra or something.”

Harry huffs and grins. “If that’s the case, you’ll be getting the best of the bunch.”

Louis waves a hand at him. “There might not even be one left over.”

“I’ll make sure there is,” Harry says. 

“Oh,” Louis says. It comes out soft and light. He can feel his own crush seeping out of him, like forming a bright neon message of _I LIKE YOU_ right in front of his face. So he coughs to distract from it and speaks too loudly as he says, “Cheers, mate. Nice of you.”

There’s a bit of a silence after that, and Louis can’t tell if it’s awkward or not. He feels awkward, but Harry looks calm as he starts to fold the dough over like a little book. 

After a moment, Harry says, “The cupcakes are in the blast chiller. Just need to make the frosting and you should be good to start decorating, if you want.”

“Oh, great.”

“Do you know how to make buttercream?”

Louis pauses. “Unless it’s equal parts butter and cream, then I’m afraid I don’t.”

Harry bursts out laughing, so hard that he’s doubled over the workbench. Louis can’t help but smile at it, but then… is Harry making fun of him?

“It is butter,” Harry says, cutting through his uneasiness. He’s wrapping up the dough and walking it to the refrigerator. “And a bit of cream, with vanilla and icing sugar.”

“Right…”

Harry’s grin takes up his whole face when he turns back around. “I’ve got the butter out and I’ll grab the rest, but if you can grab five packets of icing sugar and meet me by the standing mixers, we can get started.”

Louis does as he’s told and comes back with the sugar. Harry adds the ingredients to the stand mixer, and Louis feels sufficiently grossed out as he realizes how much sugar and butter is in each of the cupcakes they sell. (He also wants to just eat the entire tub of it himself when he tastes a bit, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The frosting is done in less than five minutes, looking perfectly light and fluffy. Harry does him another solid by portioning it out and adding each color, which is for the best, as Louis definitely would have added too much food coloring to each (what’s the point of red if it’s not _red?)._

He is familiar with putting the frosting into the piping bag, so he shoos Harry away when they get to that bit, and Harry runs a hand through his curls and pops those dimples again as he turns and gathers frozen fruit for the raspberry, blueberry and cherry reductions for the scones and danishes. 

Once the cupcakes are out of the blast chiller, Louis sets to work carefully piping each one from the inside-out. He gets through a line of them before turning the tray to get at them easier. And that’s when he notices Harry staring at him. 

Or, well, staring at the cupcakes. 

“Can I help you?” Louis asks. It comes out more biting than he means it to. 

Harry’s eyes crinkle and he makes his way over. “You’re doing that wrong.”

Now, Louis is not going to be offended. He won’t. 

“Fuck you,” he says. “I’ve been frosting cupcakes professionally for two years, mate.” 

“Hm, and how long non-professionally?”

“27 years. There’s an enchanting picture of me smashing frosting onto a cake for my first birthday.”

Harry lets out another one of those honking laughs until he’s just beside Louis. He picks up another one of the piping bags, grabs a cupcake and frosts one from the outside-in in 3 literal seconds. 

_“How the…”_

“Not to brag, but I’ve been frosting cupcakes professionally for four years. Although, it’s only been 23 years all things considered. First made cupcakes with my mum when I was three.” His smile is more charming than it has any right to be. 

“Fine,” Louis says, “show me again.” 

“Might be easier if I like… guide you.”

“Guide me?” Louis’ cheeks feel warmer than they did a second ago. 

“Yeah, so you can feel what the pressure should be like for one.”

“Um.”

“Don’t have to of course,” Harry rushes to say. He’s got a bit of pink on his cheeks as well, but he was just standing by the stove, so it could be from that. 

Could be.

“No you can. You can… um.”

“Okay,” Harry says. Louis is relieved he doesn’t actually have to say _guide me_ to Harry again. That is, until Harry is standing directly behind him, gingerly taking Louis’ hand in his own. “You’ve got the bag twist down, so really it’s just about the pressure and the movement.”

Holy fuck. Holy fuck Harry’s hands are massive. His right one fully covers Louis’ hand and then some. He’s holding Louis’ hand (well, his hand with the buttercream bag, but basically holding his hand) in his so gently. 

Harry grabs a cupcake and places it down directly in front of them. 

“You can use your other hand to hold it, just helps give it more stability.” He grabs Louis’ other hand from where it’s resting on the top of the workbench and pulls it up softly so it’s lightly holding onto the bottom of the bag, just above the nozzle. 

Louis can feel the heat of Harry’s body, just an inch or two away. Harry’s face is just to the left of his own. He can practically taste Harry’s breath as he speaks; it's sweet, like everything else about him.

“You work from the outside-in so you don’t have to back-track, like you were, to get the pointed top. Just squeeze a bit, yeah just like that, and go all the way around. Don’t be afraid to get a little messy.” Louis’ next intake of breath feels loud. Really loud. His eyes close automatically. _“_ Well, messy on the bottom layer, gotta make sure it’s pretty at the top.”

It’s all too much, and Harry’s doing all of the work. It’s easy for his mind to slip a little, to imagine all the other ways they could get messy. 

“And that’s it!” Harry says, pulling back a little. 

Louis opens his eyes and looks down at their hands, still wrapped around the piping bag, and a perfectly frosted cupcake just in front of them. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat and says, “Wow, can’t believe no one told me there was an easier way.”

Harry pulls his hands and body away, moves to stand next to him. He waits until Louis looks at him to say, “You’re quite intimidating, I don’t blame anyone for not having the balls to say you were doing something wrong.”

That finally pulls him out of his daze a little. 

“Oi, mate, just because I did it differently doesn’t mean it was wrong.”

Harry laughs at that, again, too loudly for what the joke is (if you could even call it a joke) and Louis is a little baffled. What is happening. 

“This’ll be much quicker and easier on your hands.”

“My hands were just fine before, thanks very much.”

Harry looks at him softly and agrees. “They were.”

The haziness Louis felt before is back and he feels his mouth part a little. He doesn’t really know why, since his brain is coming up absolutely empty as he looks for something to say. He closes his mouth and looks away, back towards the cupcakes. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Harry says after a moment. Louis can only nod and grip the piping bag a little tighter. When Harry turns away, Louis’ hand flexes against the pale blue frosting before he tries to reorient himself. 

Harry’s frosting method is actually much easier. The memories of him pressed so close (but not close enough) however, are more than distracting, especially with the man himself still standing in the same room just a few feet away. 

Louis finishes the cupcakes easily and in record time. He starts to clean up and covers the cupcakes, putting them in a temperature controlled box so the buttercream doesn’t melt with the heat of the room. 

When he’s done, Louis finds Harry straining the compotes into a few bowls on the countertop next to the stove. 

“What do you need from me?” Louis asks from halfway across the room. 

Harry pauses his stirring against the sieve for a moment. “Uh.”

Oh, maybe Louis will just be in the way, and Harry’s too polite to say anything. “It’s alright,” Louis says, waving a hand, “there’s some labels I can—” 

“Butter!”

Louis’ cut-off word turns into a hum of confusion.

“I mean, could you grate some butter? For the scones? I put some aside in the freezer.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Yeah, for sure.”

“Thanks! That’ll be a big help.”

Harry continues stirring his raspberry compote through the strainer and Louis goes to get the butter.

Something Louis definitely learns that night is how much arm strength he needs to grate frozen butter into tiny little curls, and it’s more than he was expecting. He takes a break halfway through his task to stretch out his arms and looks over at Harry, who’s rolling out the puff pastry dough again. 

Those little wisps keep falling in front of his eyes. Louis wants to strangle himself with them. And Lord have mercy on him, for all the dirty, dirty thoughts running through his mind about Harry’s arms. The way they’re flexing as he works the rolling pin, Louis imagines they’d flex the same way if he had to hold Louis up against a wall for some reason. Some dirty, dirty reason. 

Louis shakes himself out of it, stretches his arms once more, and starts grating again. 

After a moment, the sound of the rolling pin stops. All sound stops from Harry’s area of the kitchen, so Louis looks up, mid-grate, only to find Harry looking back at him with one hand resting on top of half-folded dough. 

“What?” Louis asks. 

Harry blinks at him a few times. “Huh?”

“Am I doing it wrong?”

Harry’s eyes move down to look at the butter. “No. No sorry, you’re doing great.”

Louis snorts. “Did you just make a pun?”

Harry blinks at him a couple of times again and then cracks a smile that takes up his entire face. He starts laughing and Louis can’t help but join him, it’s so contagious. 

“You’re a bit of a dweeb, aren’t you?” Louis asks, and that sets Harry off more. 

Before he knows it, they’ve been laughing for a full minute, both feeding off of each other. Harry’s doubled over and Louis’ clutching at his stomach and Harry’s wiping his eyes and Louis’ slapping a hand against the worktop. It takes another couple of minutes for them to recover, and then they’re still grinning at each other like idiots. 

Louis turns back to his butter, still smiling, when one of his favorite songs starts playing from Harry’s phone in the corner of the room. He sways his hips and grates to the beat of the song, and then he hears a giggle. 

He looks over at Harry, who’s watching him, smiling from ear to ear. He nods over to the speakers. “You like this one, yeah?”

“Amy Winehouse? I’d consider you mental if you didn’t love her.” 

“Guess it’s a good thing I love her, then.”

“Guess so,” Louis says, and hums along to the lyrics, still swaying a little. 

Harry starts to sing along under his breath. 

Not to be outdone, especially when it comes to one of his favorite songs by one of his artists, Louis starts singing as well, and a little louder. 

Which causes Harry to up his own volume. 

And suddenly both of them have abandoned their tasks in favor of belting out _Valerie_ to each other across two workbenches. Louis waves the butter around and Harry’s using a wooden spoon as a microphone. Both of them are smiling, definitely laughing a little too much in between lyrics, but it’s nice. And so fucking fun. 

The song ends, and Louis would be embarrassed to be as out of breath as he is, but Harry’s the same, and they’re both beaming at each other. 

_The Chain_ by Fleetwood Mac comes on next, and Harry gushes about Stevie Nicks while putting the puff pastry in the refrigerator again as Louis finishes the butter. And Louis can’t help but get a little melty inside when Harry says things like, “By being so unapologetically herself, she gives others permission to do the same” and “she sees all the romance and the drama in the world and she celebrates it, you know?”

He talks through _Sweet Child O’ Mine_ and _Zombie_ and a few others, gesticulating wildly and not really working (Louis doesn’t mind, not at all, with Harry’s deep voice cutting through everything else with all its passion and soulful reminiscing) but he stops suddenly when the first notes of _Hanging by a Moment_ come on and blushes fiercely, looking down at his workstation. 

“Oh, shit, sorry I’ve just been babbling on and on!” he says, forcing out a laugh.

“You haven’t,” Louis rushes to say. “I promise. I love listening to you.” And then it’s Louis’ turn to blush and inwardly scold himself. “I mean, it was nice, you were saying nice things.”

Harry shoots him a small smile. “Suppose the least I could do is work while I jabber on, yeah?”

Louis forces out a laugh of his own and gives a sort of noncommittal gesture with his head. “I’ll, uh, get out of your hair.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“No, I’ve got to go make labels. And I can grab the cupcakes and start putting them away in their boxes. One less thing to do later.” Louis raps a few knuckles on top of the workbench and actively avoids Harry’s gaze as he turns around to grab the cupcakes from their temperature-controlled case. Once he has them, he still doesn’t look at him, but does call out over his shoulder, “I’ll check-in in a bit.”

He’s just being nice, Louis reminds himself. They’re both here on this shift and Harry just wants someone to keep him company. 

Even in his head it sounds pathetic. 

Louis pushes away his own thoughts about it and gets to work on making the labels for the boxes. He was planning on just printing up the ones they have for events like this, but he decides to fuck around and try to design as specialized one so he can stay in the office a bit longer; away from all the awkwardness he feels. 

He spends half an hour putting the cupcakes into each of the boxes, carefully arranging them into their little slots so they won’t tip over or blend into one another. Then he spends another hour playing around with fonts and photoshopping little jars that look like the company’s packaging into the label, and plays around with color. When he looks up, it’s just past 1:30am. Four hours left for him. Three hours left of Harry’s shift. Louis sighs. 

He prints out the labels on sticker paper in the office and spends longer than needed straightening out the desk, especially seeing as he didn’t really move anything, before heading back into the kitchen. 

Harry’s got his back turned so he’s facing away from the kitchen entryway when Louis walks in. He’s turned the music up a bit and is swaying his hips on the beat. Or, well, on the off-beat. It’s kind of funny to watch, and inexplicably comforting to know that Harry isn’t good at absolutely everything. He’s drop-dead-gorgeous, a crazy talented baker, and is passionate about music - it’s only fair that he’s not a good dancer. 

He’s got a silicone brush in his hand and is swiping across the tops of the pastries as he moves along. He gets to the end of the tray and does some sort of half-thrusting motion with his hips as he picks it up and turns around. 

“Fuck!” he yells, when he catches sight of Louis, and Louis can’t help but double over (but only because Harry didn’t drop the pastries, that would have sucked the laughter out of him). “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I think technically I scared the fuck out of you,” Louis says. 

It looks like Harry is caught between wanting to laugh and trying to settle his heart rate back to normal. He lets out a chuckle and starts walking towards the oven. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Louis says, walking quickly in front of him to pull the oven door open. 

“Thanks,” Harry says, flashing him a big smile. Louis’ heart flutters a bit when he sees his two front teeth, a bit larger than the rest. He’s like a little rabbit. A talented, funny, sexy little rabbit.

Jesus, Louis needs to pull himself together. 

He closes the oven door and they straighten up at the same time. Harry doesn’t move away, so Louis turns to look at the rest of the kitchen. “What next?”

Louis keeps looking pointedly away until he can feel Harry shift his body as well, putting his hands on his hips. “Finishing the scones,” he answers. “And—” he cuts himself off with a yawn. He brings a hand to cover his mouth and shakes his head and shoulders a little after. “Then danishes.”

“Tired?” Louis asks. 

Harry shrugs and then smiles at him a little sleepily. “Not really any more than usual. I think my body’s just a bit confused because I should be asleep and getting ready to wake up in a couple of hours. Instead, I’m awake getting ready to sleep in a couple of hours.”

Louis nods. “I’m a bit more used to it. We sometimes have gigs that go until 3am, since it’s the timeslot people don’t really want, so my body probably just thinks it’s another later-nighter.”

“Gigs?” Harry asks. Louis looks over and Harry looks positively delighted. “You in a band?”

“Ah,” Louis says ruefully. He brings an arm up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sort of. It’s just something me and Li and a couple of our mates do from time to time. Zayn joins in too, if he’s up for it, but the mood has to strike him. Not sure if you can call it a band.”

“You the lead singer?”

Louis feels a laugh nearly punched out of him. “Ha, no. Back-up vocals and guitar. What makes you think I’m lead?”

“Well, one, you’ve got a great voice,” Harry says immediately. “You’ve also got a commanding presence. I’m not sure how your lead must feel with you hogging all of the attention.”

Louis feels his eyes crinkle as he smiles and his entire body heats up. Is this… is Harry…?

He squashes the thought down. No. When Harry looks like _that_? No, he can’t be flirting. Not more than a bit of fun, anyway. And Louis can’t bear to think of flirting with Harry in a half-hearted way, so he needs to shut down any inkling of that before he gets himself hurt. 

“Liam does the lead vocals. He’s very good.”

“I’m sure he is,” Harry says, “I just don’t know if he’s as good as you.”

Louis gives a noncommittal shrug. “Thank you, but really, Liam’s so good.”

Harry seems to pick up that he should drop it. He’s still smiling as he says, “Well, I’d love to come and see you play sometime.”

“Ah, like I said, it’s almost always like a 2:45am slot, so you’ll be well asleep by then.”

“I’ll take a day off,” Harry says easily. And then, pointedly, “That is… if the shift manager will let me.”

Louis shakes his head but he sure can’t help but give Harry a fond smile. “I’ve heard he’s a menace, so best get it in quick then.” 

“I’m not really one for quickness, unfortunately,” Harry says. “I like to take my time in everything I do. Can’t rush a good job.”

Louis feels himself heat up around his neck and collarbones. “Unless you’re being paid to do one, yeah?”

“Yeah, except then.”

They look at each other for a moment and there’s… there’s something, but Louis can’t put his finger on it. He doesn’t know what Harry’s trying to tell him with that. 

He clears his throat and looks away again. “Right, well, scones and then danishes. What can I do?”

There’s a pause and Harry sort of shuffles a bit on his feet. “Um. I guess if you could grab the scone dough from the refrigerator, cut them and brush them with some heavy cream, that’d be great. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all mate,” he responds easily. And then he walks off with his mission. 

He grabs the stack of scone wheels, neatly labeled, even though it’s just him and Harry here and no chance of anything being mixed up with just the two of them (which Louis can’t help but feel endeared by), and he gets to work. 

He takes his time and tries really hard not to watch Harry out of the corner of his eye, but it’s hard not to. He’s sifting flour into a bowl, looking very carefully at it, and spooning in additional powder as he needs. God, even fluorescent light makes his hair shine so beautifully, what the fuck. Harry yawns yet again into the crook of his arm and then sighs. 

“Would you like a coffee?” Louis hears himself say.

Harry looks up at him. “Hm. I probably shouldn’t.”

Louis nods and looks back down at the scone dough, which he’s cut into triangles, and the small bowl of cream. He picks up the brush just as Harry continues. 

“Ah, what the hell. My sleep’s fucked for today anyway. Might as well.” 

Louis nods and puts down the brush again. “What would you like?”

“Oh, whatever’s fine, I’m not picky.” He looks back down to his work. 

“Sorry, I don’t like to guess, mate. People are usually not happy with the end result.”

Harry stops his sifting and looks up again. There’s some playfulness in his eyes this time, and Louis feels a spark of something in his chest. “What would you make for me then, if you were to guess.”

Louis lets out a breath and shrugs. “Dunno. We’ve got plenty of that new white chocolate sauce. Maybe a three-chocolate mocha.”

“Mm, you’re right, I would not’ve been that happy.” Harry laughs. “How about an iced Americano? If that’s okay?”

“No sweets then?” Louis asks. 

“Nah. Since I eat so much sugar throughout the day, testing and tasting, I don’t like to add sugar where I can help it.”

“Noted.” Louis turns and is at the kitchen door when Harry calls out to him. 

“Hey Lou? I lied before. I still would’ve been happy with the mocha.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“Because it would’ve been you who made it.”

Harry’s got a definite blush on his cheeks now. And he’s not anywhere near the stove this time, so it’s not from the heat of the kitchen. He’s blushing because… because he’s flirting. He’s flirting with Louis. Is he flirting with Louis?

Louis stutters a bit as he realizes he was just staring at Harry, who’s starting to look a little bashful now. He tries to think of something quippy to day, some sort of joke to make, but he nearly can’t help it when something sincere comes out instead. “I want to make you something you’ll like.”

Harry runs a hand through the wisps of hair again, and the muscles in his arm flex as he does. “Thank you,” he says. 

Louis can’t decide if he wants to stay and stare at Harry for as long as he can (until they’re both uncomfortable with the eye-contact, probably) or flee the scene immediately. His body tries to do both by turning his torso and legs away and keeping his head turned towards the beautiful man in front of him, so he ends up stumbling a bit. 

He makes Harry’s drink quickly and then spends an extra two minutes out behind the barista counter just staring at it. 

He brings it in and places it gingerly down in front of Harry, who looks up with a smile, before turning around immediately and finishing fixing up the scones. When he’s done, he puts them on a baking tray and sets them in the freezer. 

“Baguettes are done and cooled, if you wanna pack them up,” Harry says. “They’re in the basket on the counter next to the refrigerator. 

“Cheers,” Louis says, and he goes to grab a thick wicker basket, lined with linen and parchment paper, stacked with bread. 

When he turns around, Harry’s clapping his hands to get rid of excess flour and walking towards the ovens. Louis slips out of the room as inconspicuously as he can. He’s nearly done putting all of the baguette’s away when Harry comes out of the kitchen holding a tray with his hands. “Quite the set-up you’ve got here,” he says. 

Louis looks around him, at the thirty boxes laid out on the bakery counter and barista bar and a couple of the closest tables. He shrugs and laughs a little. “It was the easiest way I could think of.”

“No, I like it. As efficient as you could get, I’d reckon.”

Louis adds another baguette to a box. “What’ve you got there?” he asks, nodding to the tray in Harry’s arms. 

“Oh, the kouign amann,” Harry says. “Where d’you want them?”

“Um,” Louis looks around and sees a bit of space by the cash register. He nods to it. “There’s fine. I’ll come grab them in a second.” 

“Sounds good,” Harry says. 

Louis continues and when he’s out of baguettes, he goes to get the pastries. He counts them up quickly and finds exactly sixty, two for each of the boxes. Ah, well, Harry must’ve forgotten. Not the end of the world. Maybe he can ask Harry and Sandra to put them on the menu next month as a special and he’ll have one then. He finishes up putting all of the pastries in the boxes and then makes his way back into the kitchen to see if the scones are ready to put away. 

“Hey Harry, what’s the ETA on the…” Louis stops and his eyes zero-in on one little kouign amann, perfectly browned and flaky, glistening with sugar, on a little cafe plate. There’s a small fork beside it, set on a napkin. “...the scones,” Louis finishes weakly. He looks up to see Harry at the closest workbench, just across from the kouign amann, beaming at him. 

“Just finishing up glazing them now. They should be ready in 10 minutes once it hardens.”

Louis just keeps looking between Harry and the single pastry waiting for him. “Can’t believe you set one aside.”

“I told you I was going to give you the best one, didn’t I?” he laughs. “I did think about just leaving it out there with you, but since you said they were your favorite, I wanted to see your reaction in person.”

“Oh,” Louis says. 

“But don’t feel like you have to!” Harry’s quick to say. “I can always pack it up for you to take with you.”

“No,” Louis says. “No, I’ll— thank you, Harry, I’ll have it now.”

He approaches the worktop carefully. A timer goes off and Harry turns away to go to the oven. While he’s distracted, Louis takes a moment to really admire it. It’s textbook, Louis thinks. The definition of a kouign amann. Or, well, to him anyway; Louis’ not a pastry chef. But it’s the prettiest pastry Louis’ ever seen. So many layers at the top in a sort of swirly, wave pattern. God, Louis just looked at dozens of them, but this one is just better. Better because Harry set it aside just for him. 

Louis forgoes the fork and picks it up with his hands. It’s a bit sticky on his fingertips, still a touch warm, like maybe Harry kept it over the oven for him. He tears off a bit of it and pops it in his mouth. 

It’s buttery and sugary and flaky and everything Louis remembers loving about it from the moment he first tasted it. “God,” he whispers and tears off another bit, closing his eyes to savor the taste. 

He’s startled out of his reverie by Harry’s deep voice, so close to him now. 

“Like it?” he asks. 

Harry’s not even two feet away from him, eyes boring into Louis’ face, like he’s trying to get the answer without Louis even having to speak.

If only. “It’s so good, Harry, oh my god. I think it’s the best pastry I’ve ever had.”

Harry looks absolutely over the moon. “Really?”

“Fuck yes, wow. There’s like the perfect crunch on top, but it’s soft in the middle.” Louis pops another piece in his mouth and only just stops himself from actually moaning at the taste. “Thank you.” Louis sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth to scrape the sugar crystals off with his teeth. 

Harry sways forward a little, eyes pulled down to Louis’ mouth for a moment, and Louis freezes. After a few seconds, Harry’s eyes flicker up, and they just stare at each other. Louis feels himself panic. 

“Lou,” Harry says. 

“Danish?” Louis interrupts.

“What?”

“How, um, how are the danishes coming along? If you’re nearly done with them I bet you can leave almost an hour early. Get started on that full weekend of yours. Get some sleep. Try to recoup as best you can. It’s just the scones and the danish left so as soon as the danishes are done you’re good to go.”

“Uh,” Harry pulls back a bit and looks over to the oven, “they’ll be just another fifteen minutes, I think, to get them out of the oven and cooling.”

“Great!” Louis says, much too loud. He puts the rest of his kouign amann down on the plate and doesn’t even think about licking the rest of his fingers. “Great. Okay, Let me grab the scones and you can finish the danishes and then you can go. I’ll clock you out, like I said. You deserve the full shift time, you worked really hard, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Cool.” Louis moves, walking away from Harry to go the long way around the workbench to grab the tray of scones. “I’ve got these. Blueberry lemon and raspberry scones yeah? Yeah love that. They’re going to be delighted.” He walks around the long way again and heads out of the room. “I’ll just— thanks!”

Louis must be pink from head-to-toe. He feels so warm and all of his emotions feel like they’re right at the surface of his skin. What the fuck is happening. Why can’t he get himself together? Harry flirting with him is only temporary. Only for tonight. He can’t let himself get caught up in it, he can’t. He still has to work with him, sees him at least three times a week. Even if he did start scheduling himself at the direct opposite times there’s at least a few times a month where they’d need to cross paths. 

On second thought… maybe he should do that anyway. Take himself away from the temptation. Yeah, yeah he’ll do that, and that way they can still remain friendly in passing and everything will be okay. Louis finishes putting the scones into the boxes just as Harry’s done with the danishes. 

Harry comes back out with the danishes and sets the tray down in the same space as he did the kouign amann earlier. He taps the edges of it with his fingertips as he says, “So, uh, I guess I’m just going to finish cleaning up and then I’ll head out.”

Louis turns to look at him and forces a smile. “Sounds good, thanks.”

Harry looks at him a little longer than would be considered polite, but Louis just keeps his smile in place until he nods once and goes back into the kitchen. Louis makes quick work of putting the danishes into the boxes and then he goes and grabs the labels and ribbons. He’ll spend this last bit of time assembling. He’s got a strict drop off time, but if he can load everything into the van early, maybe he can sit and have a nice cuppa to watch the sunrise before he drives out. 

Louis’ looking checking things off the list for each package, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything, when Harry comes out of the kitchen with a backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“I’m headed out,” Harry says. 

“Okay. Thanks again, Harry. Enjoy your next couple of days off.”

“Thanks, Lou. Um. And let me know when you’re playing next. Really would like to come out and see you. And Liam. I’ll even drag my friend Niall along, even if it’s not in a pub.” He laughs a little. 

Louis laughs too. “I will.” He won’t. “Have a good one.”

Harry gives him a wave, unlocks the front door, and leaves. And that’s that. 

Louis breathes for what feels like the first time in hours. He shakes his head and goes back to his checklist. Okay, box 23 has the three jars of sauces, 2 kouign amann, 2 of each kind of scone, 2 danishes, 1 baguette and 2 of each kind of cupcake. Bit weird, Louis thinks again, to say _each kind of cupcake_ when they’re all the same except for the buttercream color. 

Box 24 has 3 jars, 2 kouign amann, 2 of each kind of scone, 2… 

Each kind. Louis flips back to the first page, the original order form, and he looks at the note about cupcakes. _6 cupcakes in each box, 2 of each: red, blue, yellow*._

Louis scans the rest of the page and finds nothing. There’s no note for the asterisks. But is that right? Why would there be an asterisk if there’s nothing attached to it? He flips the page over and… there, in the top right corner, partially cut off by the staple, is the rest of it. 

_*red = strawberry basil, blue = blackberry lavender, yellow = lemon cream_

Fuck. 

Louis stares at the note and then looks back to the cupcakes. The plain vanilla cupcakes. And then he remembers the three extra little jars of sauce. 

Fuck. He looks at the clock. 3:11am. Okay, he thinks. Okay he’s just got to, got to redo them. Even though he has no idea how to make buttercream. Goddamnit, why didn’t he pay attention to what Harry was doing instead of ogling the side of his face?

(He knows why, and he wants to kick himself even more because of the answer.) 

Louis tries to take deep breaths and finds his hands are shaking as he starts to take the cupcakes out of their little holders. 

The door chimes open and Louis looks up in a panic as he sees Harry come back in. Harry grimaces and says, “Sorry, forgot my phone again, I don’t know why I keep… Lou, what’s wrong?”

"Fuck,” Louis whispers, and he can feel tears start to brim in his eyes. 

"What? What's wrong?"

"I read the list wrong. For the cupcakes. We made regular buttercream but we needed to make buttercream flavored with the sauces. I fucked up."

"Oh. Okay, it's okay," Harry says in that deep voice.

"I don't know how to make buttercream," Louis whispers to the cupcakes in his hands. 

"Louis, it's fine, I'm here, I know how."

"You left. You’re all done."

"Yeah, but there's still another 45 minutes of my shift,” Harry says. He locks the front door and makes his way around so he’s at the end of the barista counter, just a few feet from Louis now. “It's going to be okay." Harry gestures over his shoulder. "I'm going to go grab the room temperature butter from the pantry. I think there should be enough for these, and I’ll replace the rest for Sandra for when she gets in. You work on scraping the frosting off of the cupcakes so we can pipe the correct stuff back on."

"I'm so sorry, Harry, fuck." Louis stares at the cupcakes in his hands and shakes his head.

"Louis," Harry says then, and suddenly he’s right beside Louis, gingerly taking the cupcakes from him and then placing his hands on Louis’ shoulders. He waits until Louis' looking at him before continuing, smiling softly. "It's fine. We've got plenty of time."

Louis bites his lips and looks away, nodding. "Yeah. You're right. You're right, it's fine."

Harry nods, squeezes Louis' shoulders gently once and then pulls away, turning around and heading back to the kitchen. 

He takes a steadying breath in and out and sincerely thanks whatever supernatural force that made Harry forget his phone twice in one day. 

He grabs a bowl from the cabinet and a one of the espresso spoons because it’s handy. He pivots on the counter so he has space to gently scrape off the icing into the bowl. 

Six boxes later, Harry comes out, white powder smeared across his forehead, grinning. “I’ve got the base buttercream made, where are the sauces?”

Louis puts down the cupcake in his hand and drops the spoon to run and grab the three extra sauce jars from the office. He nearly collides into Harry when he comes running back, and Harry has to steady him with both hands on his upper arms so he doesn’t fall over. 

Harry laughs, “Slow down, we’ve got more than enough time. When’s the drop off?”

“They asked for 4:45am.”

“Okay, it’s only 3:25am now. Figure it’s 4am by the time we finish frosting and loading them back into the boxes. Plenty of time.” He smiles reassuringly at Louis and all Louis can do is nod. “Now, get cracking, you’ve got like twenty-five boxes to go.”

“Twenty-four,” Louis counters, and he barely catches Harry’s wide-smile before turning around and getting back to it. 

Louis is finishing the last box when Harry comes out of the kitchen with three piping bags full of frosting. 

“Thank you so much,” Louis says gratefully (maybe a little desperately). “I owe you, big time.”

Harry just shakes his head and waves him off. “It’s not even the end of my shift yet, Lou, you don’t owe me anything.”

Louis nods and sighs. “I think I’ll have just enough time to frost and get the boxes tied up and in the van. You’re honestly a blessing, I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”

Harry beams. And then he puts two of the piping bags down and grabs one of the cupcakes. 

“What’re you doing?” Louis asks. 

“Frosting cupcakes,” Harry answers. 

“But Harry—”

“Lou, I honestly don't mind. It’s still not even 4am anyway. Now, I’ll frost and you put them back, yeah? You got pretty good at frosting earlier, but I am, quite literally, a professional froster.”

Louis laughs and nods, setting to work as soon as Harry’s got the first two done. 

Fifteen minutes later and Louis is shutting the final box and wiping a hand along the side of his face. Some of the boxes are a tiny bit off kilter, but they did good work, all-in-all. Louis looks at the clock. 4:02am. 

He grabs one of the pieces of ribbon and starts to loop it around the first box. “Harry—”

“Louis, before you even start, I’m invested now. I’m here until we load up every last one into the van.”

Louis laughs at that, at Harry and at himself. He looks over at him, and Harry’s just smiling serenely, watching Louis’ hands as they tie a bow. He makes a clucking sounds with his tongue and drops the ends of the ribbon in response. 

“I’m kind of shit with ribbons,” Harry says, picking up the stack of labels instead, “but I can definitely put a sticker onto a box.”

Louis feels his eyes disappear because he’s smiling so hard. “Sounds good. Thank you.”

Harry hums and waits for Louis to be done with the first box before asking where the sticker goes, then he jumps ahead of Louis and carefully adds one to each. After a few minutes he asks where the keys to the van are, and then goes to move it around front before grabbing three finished boxes at once (like they weigh nothing) and load them in. 

All the boxes are finished and loaded up before it’s 4:15am. 

Louis slumps against the counter, and Harry follows suit. They look at each other and laugh. Then they look around at the mess they’ve made in the front, with bits of paper and frosting splattered along the counter. Louis gets a cloth immediately and Harry grabs the bowl full of discarded buttercream and makes his way back into the kitchen to clean up there. 

When Louis’ finished out front, he joins Harry and stands at the furthest workbench, in front of the bowl of frosting, watching him wipe down the standing mixer. He dips a finger into the blue buttercream absentmindedly and pops it into his mouth. It’s creamy and vanilla-y and tastes very sweet. It’s a shame it has to go to waste. Louis takes another swipe of it. 

Harry pulls back from the standing mixer, rag in hand, and turns around to look at Louis eat the buttercream. “Are you going to share?” he asks, striding over. 

Louis shrugs and picks up the bowl. “Dunno. I worked very hard tonight, I’m not sure you worked as hard as me.”

“Oh really?”

Louis nods and takes another bit of frosting on his finger, hunching down over the bowl protectively, ready to swat Harry’s hand away if he tries to take it from him. 

“That’s okay,” Harry says, now just behind him, “I’ll just have some of the other stuff.”

“What?”

And then he feels Harry’s pointer finger drag down the side of his face. Louis turns around, still clutching the bowl, just in time to see Harry smirk at him, red frosting on his finger, before he pops it in his mouth. “Mmm,” he says, “the strawberry basil really is something.”

Louis gapes at him. “Were you going to tell me I had buttercream on my face?”

Harry shrugs and tries to go for Louis’ face again with his spit-wet finger. Louis swats his hand away. “Of course,” Harry says. “I would’ve texted you about it when I got home.”

Louis lets out an incredulous laugh. “That would have been very helpful.”

“I am nothing if not helpful.” 

“Me too,” Louis says, plunging his hand into the buttercream, “Oh, look, you’ve got something there.” He swipes his frosting-covered hand across Harry’s cheek. “Oh, whoops, guess it was just a shadow. My bad.”

Harry’s got a wide-mouthed, shocked expression, one side of his face smeared with yellow, red, blue, and the muddled brown color that comes with mixing them together. “I can’t believe...”

“What? I was only trying to help.” Louis makes his eyes wide and tries to look up as innocently as he can. 

“I’ll show you help,” Harry says, and then grabs the bowl from Louis, surprisingly quick, before sticking a hand into the buttercream and swiping it down Louis’ face all the way down until he runs out of it at the top of Louis’ collarbones. 

Louis retaliates quickly, grabbing a full handful of the frosting and slapping it against Harry’s chest, smudging it colorfully into his white t-shirt. And then it’s a full-blown buttercream war, with each of them scraping at the bowl to grab more frosting to paint it into each other’s skin. They’re laughing and everything is so sweet around them, Louis hardly notices when Harry drops the bowl on the workbench and grabs at his wrists to stop him until he’s giggling, looking up and feeling the electricity spark around them. 

They're so close, he realizes, their faces just a few inches apart. Louis' next breath out is a little shakier than he'd like, but Harry doesn't seem to mind. His eyes are trained on Louis' lips now and he licks his own, getting some of the residual buttercream off as he does. Louis stares at those lips. He wants to be the one to lick the buttercream off of them. Push some more of it into his mouth and chase after it with his tongue. 

After a moment their eyes meet and Harry just looks at him. Really looks at him. It makes Louis’ heart beat wildly. It feels like Harry can read his thoughts this way, knows exactly what Louis is feeling and what he wants. 

Harry’s eyes seem to ask the question anyway, and his lips part a little. Louis' breath quickens as he looks at this gorgeous man in front of him. This absolutely stunning person who's silently asking what Louis' been wanting to be asked since the first moment Harry walked into the bakery and introduced himself as the new pastry chef. Without uttering a thing, Harry's asking if he can kiss Louis, and Louis doesn't know what to do about it.

He tries to swallow down his insecurities as he nods, just once. He knows Harry caught it from the twinkle in his eye, but if he hadn't, he sure would have by the time Harry presses his lips oh-so-gently against Louis' own. Harry's eyes are half-lidded as he sighs a little and lets go of Louis’ wrists to bring his frosting-covered hands up to caress his face. Louis' eyes, on the other hand, are wide open and his arms hang limp by his side. His entire body feels taut like a wire, ready to snap, ready for Harry to pull back and laugh that Louis’ so embarrassingly into him.

Harry can obviously feel it. He pulls back his face but leaves his hands where they are, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Louis' jaw. God it makes him want to cry.

"Was I wrong?" Harry asks quietly.

"What?" Louis asks.

"I thought... I mean, I'd hoped that you were into me too, but was I wrong?"

_What?_

Louis doesn’t have words so he stays quiet, looking up at Harry, confused. 

"I thought maybe tonight would be a good chance to get to know each other,” Harry says, “Like, I know you didn't really like me right away, but I knew we'd get on."

"Um—"

"And when Zayn said you were just a bit shy but that you liked music and we should try to bond over that I just... I know it's probably bad form to ask your crush's best mate for wooing advice but I was sort of at a loss. And I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. God I'm still... I've just wanted to touch you for so long. I'm sorry."

Harry starts to pull away, but Louis' hands finally stop being dead fish at his sides and he reaches up to clasp onto Harry's wrists to keep him there.

"You had a crush on me?"

"Have. But yeah. Sorry."

"But... you're so..."

Harry sighs a little sadly. "Bossy?"

"What, no."

"Clingy?"

"What—"

"Arrogant?"

"No, you're so hot!" Louis practically shouts. "You're so bloody attractive, Harry, why would you have a crush on _me?"_

Harry pulls back further then, but doesn't move his hands from Louis' face. He looks like a disgruntled kitten. "I'm hot?"

Louis scoffs. "Don't act like you don't know."

"No, I know."

Louis scoffs again. "Okay, yeah, changed my mind, you are arrogant."

Harry bursts out laughing, fingers flexing along the side of Louis' jaw. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. I meant _you're_ hot, too, so why would that matter?"

"I'm not as hot as you."

Harry starts a low rumbling chuckle deep in his chest. It's so fucking sexy Louis wants to eat his own hand. It’s convenient that it’s already sugar-coated. 

"Louis, do you own a mirror? Do you have any idea what you look like? You're unbelievably attractive. The muscles in your arms? The curve of your waist? Those stunning blue eyes and your cheekbones and your hair."

"My hair? What about _your_ hair? Who allowed you to get highlights? You look unreal."

 _"You_ look unreal. And you're so funny and caring and hard-working. Fuck, I was so certain you just thought I was a cocky arsehole but were too nice to say it."

Louis can only laugh. "I'd have definitely told you if I thought that."

Harry's eyes crinkle a little and he rubs a thumb against his jaw again. "Yeah, I know that now."

He starts to lean in again, trying to bring those soft lips back to Louis', when Louis squeezes his forearms and says, "Wait!"

"What?"

"We shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I'm your boss."

Harry laughs at that, but it's different than all the other times he's laughed in Louis' presence. This time, it sounds a little manic. "No you're not," he says.

"Well, I make the schedules."

"So?"

"So I have control over when you come in! That's a boss-like thing. That's not HR approved."

"First of all, you don't have human resources at this _bakery_ , Lou. Second, if you started messing with my schedule, which I don't think you ever would, I'd just go to Georgiana. Who is my actual boss."

"Oh."

"Can I kiss you now?"

Louis bits his lip a little nervously. "Yeah. But what if—"

And then he's cut off by Harry's plush, urgent mouth, lips moving against his like he knows it's the only thing that will get Louis to shut up. And he's right. Louis melts into it, and moves his arms so they loop around Harry's waist and pull him in closer.

Harry breaks away to say, "Petition to make that kiss our first official kiss."

"You're such a fucking dweeb," Louis says, and then pulls Harry in, diving into him again, lacing his non-buttercream-covered hand through Harry's long hair and scratching lightly at his scalp.

After another few seconds, Harry pulls away again. "Petition to make _that_ our first official kiss."

Louis turns to the side and laughs. He looks around them, at the buttercream drops at their feet and how they’re covered in it. “Ah shit, we’ve made a mess.”

Harry nods and dips down to kiss Louis again. Louis hums contentedly and kisses back achingly slow. “Do you want to make a bigger mess?” Harry asks. And before Louis can ask what he means, Harry’s lifting him up so he sits on the edge of the workbench. Harry slots himself in the space between Louis' thighs and goes back to kissing him. 

“You’re so hot,” Louis says between kisses, holding Harry’s face in his hands, buttercream and all. “And this is so hot, but I’ve got to go deliver the packages.”

“How about you deliver your package to me?”

Louis tips his head back to laugh. “Oh my god, just because I laughed at one of your jokes doesn’t mean I’ll laugh at all of them.”

“Yes it does, you think I’m hot.”

“You think _I’m_ hot.”

“I do.”

They snog each other for another minute, until Louis feels himself get a little stiff in some places he probably shouldn’t.

And then the door to the bakery chimes open. 

“Hello! Sorry! I’m late!” Sandra calls out. Harry and Louis quickly separate and Louis hops down from the workbench. “I’m not used to being up this early and I misjudged how long it would take me to get ready. No one on the roads, so that’s something.” Then she walks into the room. “Why was the door unlocked, sort of un… what happened here?”

Louis and Harry look at each other sheepishly. “Made the wrong buttercream,” Louis answers. 

Sandra looks down at the floor again and back up to the frosting smashed into both of their chests. She raises one eyebrow in question. 

“Fixed it, though,” Harry adds. 

“Are you two going to be walking pots of frosting then for this function?”

“Uh…” Louis starts. 

“ Lou, you should probably get going, yeah? It’s 4:30am.”

“Right,” Louis says. He looks down at himself and realizes he’s going to have to deliver the boxes like this. He’ll put on the windbreaker they keep in the van to cover up the smudges. “Just going to wash my hands and then I’ll be off. Thanks for the extra help, Harry. Sorry about the mess, Sandra.”

“I’ll stay and clean it up,” Harry offers. “Mostly my fault anyway.”

Sandra starts putting her grey hair up into a high bun and then reaches for one of the aprons hanging on the hooks. “Thank you, baby,” she says. “My knees don’t bend like they used to. Not sure I’d be able to get back up after.”

“Thank you both. See you, Sandra. Bye Harry.” Louis looks over his shoulder one last time as he makes his way out of the room, and Harry’s smiling fondly at him, waving a frosting-covered hand.

“Yeah, see you, Lou.”

Louis sighs as he washes his hands behind the barista counter. He’s just drying them when Harry pops out from the kitchen. He smiles knowingly at Lou and walks straight to him. 

“Did I forget—” Louis starts to say.

But then Harry kisses him, quiet and hard, smirking all the while. “Your mouth is so sweet,” he says on an exhale, “Needed another taste.”

Louis moans at that and pulls Harry in again. Harry whose gorgeous hair is now coated in red and blue and yellow streaks, who thinks Louis’ hot and tastes sweet. 

“I’d bet your cock tastes just as sweet,” Harry adds. “You free later?”

Louis pulls away, bewildered. Then he lightly slaps Harry’s chest. “You got that from Zayn!” he accuses. 

Harry just grins cheekily and shrugs. “So are you?”

Louis pulls him in for another (hot and heavy) kiss, physically moves Harry’s body so they switch places, and then pushes him away, leaving Harry leaning forward and searching for more. 

“That answer your question?” Louis asks, walking backwards towards the door. 

Harry leans forward over the counter. “God, I hope so.”

“Is it sexual harassment if I ask you to text me your address?” Louis wonders out loud.

“Probably, but I don’t think it is if I send it to you unprompted.”

Louis smiles. “If you do that, I could come and pick you up for a late brunch.”

Harry’s dimples pop out as he scans Louis’ face. “I’d love that,” he says, voice much softer and gentler than before. 

Louis feels a blush coming, so he looks down at the floor with his hand on the doorknob. “It’s not a date,” Louis says, “Zayn’ll be there.”

“A pre-date then,” Harry says cheekily, and then after a moment, a soft and earnest, _“Louis.”_ He waits for Louis to look up at him to continue. When he does, Louis can see a pink-hue on Harry’s face. “Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Louis feels his own cheeks get rather warm. Again. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling this embarrassed and giddy around Harry. “Yes. I’d really like that.”

They spend too long grinning at each other, until Louis has to rush out the door in order to make the delivery on time. 

Once the delivery is finished, before Louis drives the van back to the bakery and heads to his apartment to get some sleep, he texts Zayn. 

Louis (5:09am): head’s up - Harry’s going to join us for brunch

Zayn (5:11am): does that mean…?

Louis (5:12am): stfu

Zayn (5:13am): 🍳💦

Zayn (5:13am): soz the egg was a typo

Zayn (5:13am): 🍆💦

Louis (5:20am): fuck off

Zayn (5:22am): happy for you, man 😃

Louis (5:23am): 🖕

Louis (5:23am): 😊

Brunch goes surprisingly well. After brunch goes even better. And by the time Monday rolls around, Louis finds himself with a hot, young, pastry chef boyfriend and a new favorite thing to put buttercream on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are loved, cherished and appreciated, if you're moved to do so! <3 
> 
> Here is the [moodboard for this fic](https://absoloutenonsense.tumblr.com/post/625381524319141888) (additional shoutout to [dearlou](https://dearlou.tumblr.com/) for making all my moodboard dreams come true). I'm on Tumblr as @absoloutenonsense come say hi!


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